<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>studio 6 by Second_hand_news</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672145">studio 6</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Second_hand_news/pseuds/Second_hand_news'>Second_hand_news</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Kissing, M/M, Pining Nick, and very flustered, cannon I don’t know her, emotional Jay Gatsby, supportive Daisy, they’re very gay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:43:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Second_hand_news/pseuds/Second_hand_news</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes, old sport! I mean, she wasn’t ready to accept me back in the cottage, but her eyes practically tripled in size when I showed her this place. And I can’t blame her, I mean, there must be <em>some reason</em> you keep coming back!” </p><p>Nick flinches, turning away from Gatsby momentarily. “I’ll have you know, Gatsby, it was never about the money for me.” </p><p>He aims an icy glance at Gatsby, and the man has tears in his eyes once again. “Then why, Nick?” </p><p>“Why do you think?” Nick spits, his body filling with a harsh heat completely unrelated to the thick summer weather. “Why do you think, Gatsby? Because none of this has ever made me want to come back to you.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>studio 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There is absolutely no respect for canon here</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>She’s going to seduce him </em> Nick thinks absently as he opens the side door of his car. Daisy unfolds herself from her seat, stepping elegantly onto the concrete of Gatsby’s driveway, her legs like long lines of black shimmering ink. </p><p>“Isn’t tonight just dashing, Nicky?” She spins on her heel, lifting her chin to the sky, then at the glowing mansion before her. She inhales delightfully, grabbing Nick’s hand and bounding towards Gatsby’s house with excitement only akin to a kid in a candy store. </p><p>“Slow down, Daisy. I’m going to rip my pants.” </p><p>“Life is passing us by, Nicky! There’s no time for slowing down!”</p><p>The crisp summer wind whipped the slit of her dress wide open, revealing her pale leg adorned in a lacy garter. <em>Yup. Gatsby had it in for him. </em> </p><p>“Oh, it’s just lovely.” Daisy whispers, gasping happily on the doorstep. She combs her fingers delicately through her dandelion floss hair, adjusting her headband of choice and turning towards Nick. </p><p>“Do I look alright?” She questions. He almost wants to role his eyes. </p><p>The women clearly knew she was irresistible, the neckline of her dress plunging seemingly down to her rib cage, her cheeks a vibrant auburn. Daisy practically sparkles making Nick feel somewhat lame in his sweaty untucked work shirt. It didn’t matter, he bitterly recognized, for her would not be the one Gatsby was seducing tonight. </p><p>“You look lovely, Daisy.” He remarks, albeit a bit to forlorn to be finally done with his duties of setting up his cousin and his neighbor. His best friend. The man he had subsequently fallen in love with. </p><p>Daisy smiles and Nick expects a thousand violins to start playing just for her. Nick rings the doorbell. </p><p>-</p><p>“Hey, Old Sport.” </p><p>Of course escorting Daisy to her early evening rendezvous was not enough. As soon as one of Gatsby’s many butler’s showed them inside, Daisy practically fainting in the parlor, she begged and pleaded for Nick to retrieve Gatsby. She was already arranging herself on the green leather couch, her long legs spread marvelously in front of the rest of her. Gatsby would probably burst when he descends the stairs into the parlor. </p><p>Nick, not oblivious to his cousin’s charms, wanders up the staircase to Gatsby’s bedroom, where he finds the man sitting anxiously on the corner of his bed. </p><p>“Hello.” Nick struggles out, his best smile occupying his features. Gatsby was rather ravishing, like always, in an emerald green suit, Nick’s favorite color. The man practically had a halo sitting on top of his golden hair. Nick scratches his neck, thinking he’ll put away these unsavory feelings until he was alone. “Daisy’s downstairs.” </p><p>Gatsby smiles contently, striding towards Nick in the doorway. “Wonderful.” He’s awfully close now, and Nick could smell his musky cologne, a smell that was rather unattractive on most men Nick had encountered, but was incredible on Gatsby. Everything was incredible on Gatsby. </p><p>He makes no movement of leaving Nick’s side, and Nick, desperately craving his tiny hot cottage at the moment, insists, “She’s in her finery, Gatsby. You should go see her.”  </p><p>Gatsby nods, silently considering Nick’s words before turning his head swiftly towards Nick again. “Should I?” </p><p>Nick tries to hide his astonishment behind a steely glance. It had only been a blink of a month ago that Gatsby had come to him completely infected by love’s keen sting, praying with twice the faith any man could possibly possess for Nick to set him up with his married cousin. Now they’re standing in the doorway of Gatsby’s starlit bedroom, Daisy unattended on the leather couch, practically ready to have Gatsby’s child, but the billionaire seems completely uninterested. </p><p>Gatsby’s close enough that Nick could hear his breathing. Or perhaps that’s his own shallow and feverish breaths. “Well, it’s Daisy, isn’t it?” </p><p>Nick swallows and Gatsby steps closer, his gaze sweeping over Nick’s figure conspicuously. He could feel his ears turning red as Gatsby’s eyes glimmer in his direction. </p><p>Quicker than Nick expected, Gatsby looks away, his expression indiscernible. “You’re right, old sport.” </p><p>He taps Nick on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment before he diverts his eyes completely and steps into the light of the hallway. </p><p>“Have fun, Gatsby.” </p><p>Gatsby, now gripping the carved wooden handle of the spiral staircase, let’s out a deep chuckle, the sound of sunshine filling Nick’s ears, and says, “Call me Jay, Old sport.” </p><p>Nick nods. “Have fun, Jay.” </p><p>-</p><p>He had imagined it quite a few times, Gatsby kissing him. </p><p>They’re usually at one of Gatsby’s twilight parties, most of the guests have left, and they’re dancing in the middle of the floor as some delicate piano toon rang throughout the room. Jay would say something romantic and stupid, and Nick would smile because he’s sick and in love. And then they would kiss all too quickly. </p><p>There were other times, when they would stumble up Gatsby’s staircase, grabbing feverishly at the buttons of each other’s shirts, fumbling with the clasps of each other’s belt buckles, but Nick had always cut himself off before much else could happen, before his sweaty hand could wander south of his waistband. </p><p>But now in the sweaty sheets of his bed in the lonely apex of summer, away from the morals he’d left somewhere between Gatsby’s lawn and his doorway, Nick is finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind off of Gatsby desperately kissing his neck, kissing his ribs unbuttoning Nick’s slacks, and-</p><p>He ends up on the dock instead, slumping against the wooden beams and letting the soft chirps of crickets and saccades fill his ears. It was much easier to pick up his judgment when he was somewhat less concealed out in the West Egg summer air. Anyone could find him, and it kept him from wandering too far into his head. </p><p>At the other side of the river, the green light was noticeably dim, making the water’s seem like they went much farther, like they were limitless. </p><p>He could assume Gatsby hasn’t noticed, for how could he care when he has his green light all to himself, all dressed in her most beautiful dress, waiting for him. Nick sighs, his exhaustion hitting him like a ton of bricks. He falls back against the wooden planks of the dock, closing his eyes momentarily. </p><p>New York wasn’t big enough for everyone’s hopes and dreams, and Nick, who had accepted that soon after moving in, still wanted something so very far out of his reach. </p><p>There was not enough room for them all to be happy, is what he had realized as he had disposed of Daisy on Gatsby’s couch. If Tom continued his infidelity, Daisy will be the silent collateral of him and Myrtle’s almost business like affair. And if Daisy sleeps with Gatsby, her marriage will be even more soiled than it is now, and Tom will rampage when he finds out. If Daisy stays with Tom, both of them will be quietly bitter, while Gatsby will shout his pain from the rooftops, and if Gatsby is miserable, Nick might as well be miserable too. </p><p>He supposes it’s much more productive if he, and he alone, is in agonizing pain. He’s done it for so long, it’s practically second nature at this point. </p><p>Boy, can he use a drink. </p><p>“Old Sport, is that you?” </p><p>Nick opens his eyes, his eyelashes practically sticking to his cheek with sweat. He winced at the light of the moon, whispering, “Jay?” </p><p>“I was worried someone was causing trouble out here.” Gatsby responds, though Nick hardly believes him. His hair is a bit mused, and Nick notices his shirt buttons completely uneven. He sighs. </p><p>“I’m afraid I’ve done something awfully silly, old sport...” </p><p>Gatsby settles beside him on the dock, letting his head fall beside Nick’s on the wooden boards. When Nick turned to meet his gaze, he notices Jay’s wandering eyes filling quickly with tears. </p><p>“Gatsby...” Nick began, suddenly readjusting himself so he fully face Gatsby. “Jay... what happened?” </p><p>“Oh, it’s nothing to write home about..” </p><p>“Jay.” Nick states firmly, holding eye contact sternly. “What happened?” </p><p>Gatsby winces, shutting his eyes tight. “You can tell me. It’s okay.” Nick says, and Gatsby exhales, opening his eyes.</p><p>“I, um,” Jay Gatsby doesn’t do speechless, Nick quickly realized, and as he sat there watching the poor man struggle for his words, Nick is completely astonished. “I couldn’t, ya know...” </p><p>“You couldn’t what?” </p><p>Jay breathes, “I couldn’t... get hard.” </p><p>Nick’s eyes widen, the tips of his ears turning a flaming red. “Oh, Jay that’s not your fault...” </p><p>“But it is!” He insists, his eyebrows closer to<br/>
His hair line than his eyes. “Daisy, did you see her tonight? She’s perfect. She’s always been perfect, even if I knew I can’t love her..” </p><p>“You don’t love her?” </p><p>“That’s another story. Anyway, you saw her! She’s anyone’s dream! And we were kissing, and I just-“ </p><p>Suddenly, Gatsby bursts into tears, his whole body succumbing to some sort of emotional turmoil. Nick, shocked and exhausted and completely and totally in love, reaches forward towards Gatsby and folds him into his arms. “Jay...” </p><p>“I don’t love her, Nick! Maybe I did five years ago, but I- I can’t pretend!” </p><p>Nick could feel each sob rips through Jay’s body, hiccups caught in his throat as he struggles to regain his breath. “Breath, okay?” </p><p>He lifts Gatsby awkwardly from the dock, securing an arm around his waist and bringing him back towards the mansion. Gatsby obliges, hooking his arm around Nick’s neck in return, his crying turning to shallow breathes. </p><p>As they stumble across the wet grass, Nick turns over his shoulder. Across the river, the green light is out completely. </p><p>-</p><p>“Why don’t we get you to bed, huh?” Nick proposes, helping Gatsby to his bed and hurrying off to the closet. </p><p>“Old sport-“ </p><p>“You’ve got an awful lot of clothing here, Jay. Would the grey night shirt work for you?” </p><p>“Nick, I-“ </p><p>“Oh I’m sure it’s perfect!” Nick hurries into the bedroom, placing the shirt in Jay’s lap. “I have to make a quick call!” </p><p>Nick rushes out of the room nearly tripping on the oriental rug in the hallway. He putters down the stairs slowly, hoping a call to Daisy will by him some time and amend this whole situation. </p><p>Between a waxy green fern and an intimidating painting of Gatsby, Nick finds a house phone, quickly spinning the dial and waiting for Daisy to answer. </p><p>“Hello?” She whispers, her voice already thick with fatigue. </p><p>“Daisy.” </p><p>“Oh, Nicky!” She exclaims. Nick could see her sitting up in bed, cradling the receiver in her lap. “How are you? I didn’t think you’d be up so late!” </p><p>“I didn’t think you’d be home so early.” Nick suggests, and Daisy sighs. </p><p>“Well, Nicky, Mr. Gatsby and I were having some... problems I suppose.” She explains as if Nick is her child, and he wouldn’t understand anything but irrefutably simple language. “And I wasn’t upset or anything, no, no. But Jay was awfully embarrassed.” </p><p>“I see.” </p><p>“He called me a cab and everything, practically pleaded for my forgiveness on the front lawn.” </p><p>“And do you?” </p><p>“Do I what?”</p><p>“Forgive him?” </p><p>“Why of course, Nicky!” He could hear she’s smiling, as if the supposed man of her dreams had not sent her home early when they were supposed to be having the best sex of their lives. “Gatsby and I had roaring fun, we really did, and of course I’m slightly disappointed, I couldn’t lie, but...” </p><p>“But?” </p><p>“I’ve noticed something, and I can’t seem to put the notion to rest now... you see, Gatsby loved me. Most likely five years ago, when we’d sneak around and have feverish affairs in the dark. But now, no, now I think his heart is beating for someone else...” </p><p>Nick furrows his brow, silently preparing his rebuttal when a butler approaches him, saying, “Mr. Carraway, Mr. Gatsby is requesting your presence in the bedroom.” </p><p>Nick blushes, perhaps at the subtle connotations of the Butler’s words, perhaps because he doesn’t want Daisy to know he’s at Gatsby’s house. </p><p>“I’ve gotta go.” He whispers. </p><p>“Goodnight, Nicky!” She smiles a tired smile, and he smiles too. </p><p>“Good night, Daisy.” </p><p>-</p><p>When Nick arrives back in Gatsby’s room, the man is changed into his grey night shirt, his hair golden and messy atop his head. He looks so innocent and young sitting crosslegged atop his sheets. </p><p>“I think I’ve spent a lot of time chasing, a lot of time forgetting what I’ve been chasing after.” Jay remarks introspectively and Nick nods. </p><p>“Sit down, old sport.” Gatsby insists, patting the spot next to him on the mattress. Nick, trying his best to act as natural as possible, swallows and takes the spot. </p><p>“Daisy and I... she’s great, isn’t she, old sport? I mean the woman’s a dream!” </p><p>Nick would disagree, thinking of every gift Gatsby has given Daisy now in Jordan Baker’s closet. He doesn’t say this of course. </p><p>“And her and I were special. She loved me for what I was, and it was completely pure, old sport, she really loved me.” </p><p>Nick smiles lightly at Gatsby’s sentiment, leaning his head on his palm. </p><p>“She was Daisy Fay, the envy of all of Louisville, and I was barely better than the dirt beneath her shoe, so it was was a questionable choice for her, loving me, but..” Gatsby met Nick’s eyes for a fraction of a moment, his pupils dilated like a character out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Nick wants to hold his face and tell him it’ll be alright, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t do much of anything. “But no one’s immune to all of this!” </p><p>Gatsby stands suddenly, his arms open wide and motioning towards chandelier hanging above their heads. “No one! Especially those who do questionable things!” He’s almost laughing, and Nick is caught between feeling terrible and thinking he’s breathtaking. </p><p>“Here I am, the old flame from her past, the man she had to love secretly, the man she truly loved! And now, I can give her anything she’s ever wanted. How could she not believe she’s in love with me? How can I not believe that this obsession I’ve harbored means I’m in love with her?” </p><p>“So you think she’s in it for the money? You think you’re not in love?” Nick asks, as if it weren’t inherently obvious. </p><p>“Yes, old sport! I mean, she wasn’t ready to accept me back in the cottage, but her eyes practically tripled in size when I showed her this place. And I can’t blame her, I mean, there must be <em>some reason</em> you keep coming back!” </p><p>Nick flinches, turning away from Gatsby momentarily. “I’ll have you know, Gatsby, it was never about the money for me.” </p><p>He aims an icy glance at Gatsby, and the man has tears in his eyes once again. “Then why, Nick?” </p><p>“Why do you think?” Nick spits, his body filling with a harsh heat completely unrelated to the thick summer weather. “Why do you think, Gatsby? Because none of this has ever made me want to come back to you.” </p><p>“I, I know.” Gatsby whispers, staring at his perfect hands in perfect lap. “You’re nearly repulsed every time you walk in here.” </p><p>“Then why do you ask?”</p><p>Gatsby leans forward, their foreheads almost knocking against each other, and says, “I want to hear you say it.” </p><p>“Gatsby-“ </p><p>“Old sport,” he begins, screwing his eyes shut momentarily as if the nickname has physically pained him. “Nick, I want you to tell me why it is you keep returning.” </p><p>Nick inhaled shallowly, knowing Gatsby can basically hear whatever he’s thinking with how close they are at the moment. He considers running for the door, maybe traversing all the way back west, far from New York’s whiskey breath and television drama. </p><p>He thinks of returning home where things had been simpler. Where marrying some women he didn’t love was the greatest problem. Now, seeing that’s basically what everyone in New York does, sitting across from Jay Gatsby, the king of it all, Nick longs for the boredom of the west. </p><p>He longs for a lot of things. </p><p>“I’m in love with you.” Nick says, and he’s surprised that the ground does not swallow him whole, that Gatsby is not immediately disgusted. That it seems his words hold no additional baggage. “And if, if you decided to throw your fortune to the wind, if you sold the palace, if you lived on the street, I’d still want you desperately.” </p><p>Nick was never much of a words person. Sure, he could write like nobody’s business, but his inherent wizardry with the English language never quite translated into his speech. He was more of a quiet guy, after all. But now, as Gatsby’s doe eyes stare back at him, he could tell he’s said something right. </p><p>“And I, you, old sport.” </p><p>He has no reaction time before Gatsby is kissing him, his hands latched onto the back of Nick’s neck. Nick, completely stunned at first, can do nothing but stare wide eyed as Gatsby held him with a loving sort of ferocity. </p><p>When Gatsby realizes Nick has made no move to reciprocate, he draws back quickly, scratching his neck as a deep crimson spreads across his cheeks. “Sorry, uh, old sport. I didn’t mean-“ </p><p>“Say it.” </p><p>Gatsby smirks, reaching for Nick’s hand across the mattress. “I’m in love with you, Nick Carraway.” He’s inching closer to Nick now, bringing his lips to Nick’s ear, whispering, “and I want you desperately.” </p><p>Nick is reaching for him before he can continue, threading fingers through Gatsby’s golden hair, pressing himself to every inch of the other man. </p><p>“Jay,” he whispers, his voice quivering ever so slightly. </p><p>“Nick,” </p><p>“I think I fixed your problem...” Nick trails, feeling Gatsby hard against his thigh. </p><p>Jay blushes deeply, rolling his eyes. “You absolute bastard.” He growls, kissing Nick fiercely, grabbing at the nape of his neck. “You’re going to kill me, old sport.” </p><p>“Stop with the old sport, I’m about to fuck you.” </p><p>Suddenly, Gatsby flips Nick onto his back, bracing a hand on either side of Nick’s head. “What makes you think you’ll be the one doing the fucking?” </p><p>Nick just laughs, pulling Gatsby by the collar of his nightshirt to kiss him.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>